


Tell Me Something Honest

by lionessvalenti



Category: White Collar
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Hand Jobs, M/M, Marking, Multi, Mutual Masturbation, Polyamory, Possession, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-13
Updated: 2011-01-13
Packaged: 2017-10-14 17:20:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/151645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionessvalenti/pseuds/lionessvalenti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal and Peter's first time together with only the two of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell Me Something Honest

**Author's Note:**

> Set in the same 'verse as [Like a Promise](http://archiveofourown.org/works/104402), but it can be read completely independently. Beta read by Lefaym.

Neal watches as Peter goes for another beer. He's been nursing them all evening, like he's nervous and doesn't know what to do. Like he needs something to keep his hands occupied. Neal has left him to his own devices, letting him take over the sofa and watch the baseball game while reading over his case files -- the Peter version of a relaxing evening, even if it's not in his own home.

Neal's not quite used to Peter in _his_ home, but it's not a bad thing. Elizabeth has an event only a few blocks away, so Neal and Peter planned to spend the evening together, and she would join them when she's finished working. It isn't good for Neal to go their place all the time, not while he's still being monitored.

Neal has settled at the dining room table with his own stack of files and a glass of wine, but away from the noise. However, he can't ignore Peter going back and forth from the fridge to the sofa and back. Finally, Neal gets up and cuts Peter off before he can make it back to the couch.

"Slow down there," Neal says, plucking the beer out of Peter's hand. He sets it on the table, then rests his hands on Peter's hips. "What's going on?"

"Just trying to get some work done," Peter replies. Now that he isn't holding anything, he shoves his hands awkwardly in his pockets. He's restless, shifting from foot to foot, and looking past Neal, like he can't wait to get away.

This isn't the Peter Neal has grown accustomed to, the Peter who leans into his touch and trembles. The Peter who kisses him like he might not get the chance again. The Peter who mumbles _I love you_ into Neal's chest like it will leave a mark until they fall asleep.

"What's wrong?" Neal asks, bringing his hands up to Peter's face. "Are you nervous cause El isn't here?"

It could be that simple. It could just be about sex. They haven't been together without Elizabeth, though Neal knows she's completely okay with it. He had specifically asked her when they were planning this. She had encouraged it, actually. There's no way she didn't tell Peter that it was okay.

Peter shakes his head. "No, no, we talked about it."

Neal smiles and runs a hand though Peter's hair. "Then what is it?"

Peter swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing, and Neal wants to lick it. But he holds, and then -- there it is. Peter's eyes flick to the windows.

"The windows?" Neal asks, holding back a laugh.

"I like curtains," Peter says. He pulls his hands from his pockets and moves like he wants to touch Neal's waist, but doesn't. "Anyone could be looking in -- we don't even know what kind of scrutiny we're under. I could have been tailed, you could be--"

"You sound like Mozzie," Neal interrupts flatly.

Peter opens his mouth to protest that, but Neal just looks at him. Peter's mouth closes and he frowns.

Neal smiles and kisses Peter on the cheek. "It's private, I promise. I'd have put up curtains myself if I thought it wasn't." He rests his hands on Peter's cheeks. "Nothing bad is going to happen. I'm going to take care of you." Neal pauses, suddenly thinking about all of the reckless things he's done that could have very easily landed him back in prison. Peter always covers for him, or turns a blind eye.

"Just like you take care of me," he adds. He reaches down and takes Peter's hands in his, and begins gently pulling him over to the bed. It's a little more private, out of the direct view of the windows. Neal only pauses to turn off the television, then he sits Peter on the edge of the bed.

"Relax."

"Maybe if I had that beer," Peter replies. He rests his hands on either side of him on the comforter, then he places them in his lap, and then considers touching Neal, but resists, bringing his hands back to the bed. It's almost painful to watch him be so awkward and indecisive.

Neal pets Peter's hair for a moment, then drops his hands to Peter's shoulders. "Lay down. Put your hands under your head. Relax."

"Neal," Peter mumbles in a way that lets Neal know he's beginning to unwind. Neal had figured out quickly that Peter likes direct orders. If he knows what he needs to do, he can do it. And he does, laying back, cradling his head in his hands.

Kneeling between Peter's legs, Neal leans over and slowly removes first the left sock, then the right. He gently kisses the inside of Peter's right ankle.

Peter makes a little sound, a sort of rumble in his throat, and Neal grins to himself. He runs his hands up the inside of Peter's legs, pausing briefly on his thighs.

Neal reaches up and unbuckles Peter's belt. He tries to do it with one hand, something he's capable of if they're standing face to face, but not looking and on the floor, it's more difficult. He sits up and with his eyes on the prize (and with both hands), Neal makes quick work of Peter's belt and his fly.

"Lift," Neal says, and Peter obediently raises his hips. Neal pulls down Peter's pants and underwear together, and Peter kicks them off.

"Mmm," Neal hums, leaning down to nuzzle Peter's balls.

Peter laughs and squirms. "Neal, please."

"Please what?"

He pauses, taking a breath, and says, "Please don't tease me."

Neal laughs because that was exactly what he had been planning to do. He presses a kiss to Peter's hip. "Okay, no teasing. Here, sit up." He grabs the lapels of Peter's shirt and helps hoist him up, before positioning him against the headboard. Neal climbs onto the bed and straddles Peter's lap.

"Can I take this off?" Peter asks, pulling at his shirttails. "I feel ridiculous in a shirt with no pants."

"Yes, please." Neal grins and tilts his head to the side to kiss Peter's jaw. "You will never hear me complaining about you being naked."

"Very funny," Peter replies. He moves forward just enough to slide out of his shirt. He throws it on top of where Neal had piled his trousers. "There. Only slightly less ridiculous."

Neal chuckles and and gently takes Peter's face in his hands. "Touch me," he says, because he doesn't think Peter has all evening. He's thought about it, moved like he was going to, but hasn't actually made contact.

Peter reaches up and his hands go for the front of Neal's shirt. He slowly undoes each button until the shirt is open, and he rests his hands on Neal's sides and pulls him closer. "Your body's fantastic," he says, leaning forward to kiss Neal's chest.

"I put a lot of work into it," Neal replies with a grin. He shrugs the shirt off completely, letting Peter's hands run over his back and across his stomach. He lowers his head and kisses Peter on the mouth, mumbling, "I love you," against his lips.

Peter's fingers dig into Neal's skin, and when Neal pulls back, he catches something -- an unguarded moment, probably from all the beers Peter'd had earlier. It's a flash of concern, possibly even sadness, fleeting, across Peter's face.

"Hey," Neal says, tilting up Peter's face until their eyes meet. "Tell me something honest."

It's their game. It had been Peter's game, to catch Neal in vulnerable positions and ask him to reveal something honestly. Quickly, Neal began using it back at Peter. Turnabout was fair play, after all. The game isn't just that they can't lie, but also that there's no skirting the truth, lying by omission, or any of the other diversionary tactics Neal has mastered. Whatever they say to each other has to be completely honest.

Neal is very good at speaking honestly, but not sharing something that is pertinent to the situation. Peter, on the other hand, usually reveals exactly what's on his mind in that moment.

"I--" Peter pauses and swallows. He laughs, his face flushing. "I think you're beautiful. I don't know how -- I used to wonder, years ago, what El saw in me. I love her so much, but she's always been out of my league. And now I'm doing it all again with you."

Neal's heart sinks. His face, his body, they've been weapons; a means to get what he wants by flattery and flirtation, but Peter has always looked past them. He's never been bought or sold by them. While Neal knows that Peter finds him attractive, he also knows that Peter is more drawn to his mind.

Or at least he always thought so.

"Neal?" Peter asks, and Neal realizes his silence has gone on too long.

Neal smiles, but it doesn't feel right. He shakes his head. "It's not like that at all." He tries the smile again, and this time it's warmer. "You're an idiot. That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard you say."

Peter blinks up at him. "What do you mean?"

"You're... you're _you_. I know exactly what Elizabeth sees and it's beautiful." Neal cups Peter's face between his hands, forcing Peter to look at him. "You're gorgeous. And not just because you're smart."

Peter's cheeks are pink, and he smiles. "How smart?"

Neal grins and kisses him. "Well, you caught me twice," he murmurs.

Peter laughs. "There is that."

Neal lowers his head and kisses Peter's neck. "And you're _mine_ ," he whispers, lips still to Peter's skin.

"Jointly," Peter says with a chuckle.

"For tonight, for all intents and purposes, you're all mine," Neal replies. He bites gently on Peter's shoulder and looks at the faint imprint he left and a grin spreads slowly across his face. He sits back and takes Peter's left hand, considering it for a moment.

"What are you doing?" Peter asks. His voice has that edge to it when he suspects Neal is up to something, but here in Neal's bed, there's nothing but fondness. Maybe because he knows what Neal's going to do isn't illegal. For once.

Neal laughs and brings the soft underside of Peter's wrist to his mouth. He kisses it first, then he bites. Not hard, but it's enough to entice a grunt from Peter. Neal ignores him as he sucks at the skin, rolling it between his teeth.

"Neal, what are you doing?" Peter asks again. This time his voice is strained with a gasp.

Neal glances up at him, eyeing him coyly for a minute, and then pulls off with a slurp. He looks down at the vaguely oval shaped red mark on Peter's wrist and smiles. "You're mine."

Peter stares at the mark on his wrist, then he looks up at Neal before surging forward to shove his mouth to Neal's. He wraps his free hand around Neal's neck, pushing fingers up into Neal's hair.

Neal groans, squeezing Peter's hand in his own. If he had known Peter would find this so arousing, he would have tried it weeks ago. But maybe Peter wouldn't have liked it so much then, not when he needs it now.

"I love you," Neal says as he turns his face to Peter's cheek. "I love you," he says again, as though he's only just realized how much he means it. He keeps saying it as his mouth finds Peter's neck, about an inch below his ear. Neal pauses, then nips at Peter's neck.

"Neal," Peter says, wrapping his arms around Neal's body, "not there. People will see. They'll know."

Neal pulls back enough to look Peter's in the eye. "You have a wife who is just as capable of doing this as I am. They'll never know."

Peter pauses, his chest rising with a steadying breath, and he says, "It's juvenile."

Neal isn't going to do anything to Peter that Peter doesn't want. But as Neal traces over Peter's lip with a thumb, he shakes his head and says, "It's beautiful. I want to go to into work on Monday and see it. I want you to look at it, to feel it and know that I put it there. Besides," he says, running his thumb across Peter's jaw, "it's not like everyone doesn't already know that you own me."

"Ohhh, that's what this is. You're getting back at me for putting the tracking anklet on you."

Neal laughs. "I think I'm past that."

"It's your own fault anyway," Peter mutters as he kisses Neal.

Neal has a response, but he lets it go so he can keep kissing Peter. Something's shifted and Peter is more himself again. They're back to the familiarity that brought them together in the first place. Neal's suddenly aware of his cock pushing against the front of his trousers, insisting to be let out. He reaches down and opens his pants with one hand. He pulls out his dick and moans into Peter's mouth as he brushes against the head, his fingers coming away wet.

Peter pulls away from the kiss and looks down at Neal's cock. He lifts his head and smirks. "Want some help with that?"

"Yes, I do," Neal says as seriously as he can with a grin on his face. He reaches for Peter's cock and adds, "I'll trade you."

Peter laughs as he takes Neal's dick in his hand, grinning as Neal thrusts into his grip.

Neal groans and leans forward, burying his face in Peter's shoulder as he tugs on Peter's cock. He can feel Peter's breath hot against his neck. "So good," Neal mutters.

"Yeah," Peter says. He grunts, then says, "Neal do it. Do it. I want you to. Just make it small."

Neal blinks and realizes that Peter is giving him permission to mark him. Exactly what Neal wanted. Peter is giving him something intangible and wonderful. Neal strokes faster, and Peter follows his lead, as Neal raises his head enough to press his mouth to Peter's neck again. He sucks that patch of skin between his teeth and bites down. Peter gasps, and Neal almost feels like coming right then.

But he holds on, sucking a bruise into Peter's skin like his life depends on it. Biting him the way Peter loves to bite. He grasps Peter's cock harder, stroking even faster now. He sucks Peter's neck the way he wish he could suck Peter's cock. Neal wants everyone to know that Peter is his. _His_. He wants to sign his name on every inch of Peter's body. He wants to tuck his initials someplace secret, like he did with his forgeries. If this bruise is all he'll get, he wants it to be perfect.

"Oh, Jesus, Neal," Peter mumbles. "That hurts."

Neal moans, because he likes it when it hurts. He knows how good it feels.

Peter's close. Neal can feel it in the way Peter's shoulders tense, and how his breathing is now in heavy puffs. Peter grips Neal's cock tighter, and Neal sucks harder, with desperation. They're going to be done soon, and Neal wants to leave his perfect signature before it's too late.

Peter grunts and he growls, and he comes, banging his head on the wall. Neal keeps stroking, his hand now covered his warm, sticky come.

" _Fuck me_ ," Peter says, his voice loud, echoing off the walls.

Neal pulls back, laughing. "I bet June heard that," he says with a grin. His smug moment is over as he comes, hunching forward and burying his face in the crook of Peter's shoulder again. He moans and lets his whole body relax as Peter's hand coaxes out the last of Neal's come.

After a minute, when his breathing finally steadies, Neal sits up and kisses Peter. "That was pretty good."

Peter laughs. "Yeah. Yeah, it was." He reaches over to the bedside table for tissues. He wipes the come from Neal's hands first, then dabs at the splatters on Neal's trousers.

"I should have taken these off," Neal said, rolling off of Peter's lap. He works out of his pants and underwear and tosses them aside. They're already dirty. He twists around and looks at his handiwork on Peter's neck.

The bruise is red and dark, and Neal's pretty sure in an hour it'll be purple. It's small, maybe half a size bigger than a misshapen dime, and Neal runs his finger over it. Peter, who is cleaning himself up, shudders.

"Still hurt?" Neal asks, his eyes going wide as he studies the mark. It is, as he had suspected, beautiful. No one will know it was him, but he'll know. Peter will know. Elizabeth will, too. That's all that matters.

"It felt good," Peter admits quietly.

"Thought it might. You know, you're not one to hold back on the biting."

"I don't do it in visible places."

Neal smiles. "Most of the time." He lays down on his side of the bed and motions for Peter to join him.

Peter tosses the tissues in the wastepaper basket and settles down, resting his head on Neal's chest. They're quiet for a few minutes, Neal stroking his fingers through Peter's hair, and Peter rubbing his thumb against a Neal's chest, just below his nipple.

"Hey," Peter says softly, his breath warm against Neal's skin, "tell me something honest."

Neal smiles. He thinks about saying something nonsensical, but there's nothing to hide. "I'm glad you let me do that to your neck. I know how easy it is for you to say no to me."

Peter chuckles. "Lots of practice."

"What made you change your mind?"

Shrugging awkwardly, Peter says, "I don't know. I guess I wanted it. We're in a strange situation, Neal. We don't have a lot of opportunity to be... public. It's not like we can exactly exchange wedding rings."

Now there's a topic they hadn't discussed, and Neal definitely didn't think Peter would be the one to bring it up. Peter must be getting sleepy if his emotional filter is shutting down. Neal scratches his short nails affectionately across Peter's scalp. "Or tracking anklets."

Peter snorts. "Or that."

"Thank you," Neal says. "For letting me."

"Mmm," Peter replies, rubbing his face against Neal's chest. A few seconds later, he emits a light snore.

Neal smiles and lets himself drift off.

\--- --- ---

Neal's eyes open when he hears the click of the door opening. He blinks, realizing all the lights in the apartment are still on, and Peter had rolled away from him in sleep. He raises his head and watches Elizabeth closing the door, clearly trying to be quiet.

She kicks off her shoes by the door and pulls off her coat, revealing a green wrap dress. She looks over, perhaps sensing him, and smiles. "Hey."

"Hey. How was it?" Neal asks, propping himself up on an elbow.

She shrugs. "Typical. You know pretentious art people." She takes off her dress and lays it out over the sofa. She looks back at Neal as she unhooks her bra. "How was your night?"

Neal glances down at Peter and smiles. "It was good. Turns out Peter's a fan of curtains."

Elizabeth looks around the room like she's just noticed that it's completely exposed. "Huh. I kind of like it." She stands there for a moment in just her stockings and underwear, contemplating the glass of wine Neal had left on the table.

Neal smiles, feeling his arousal welling up again. "Come here," he says.

Elizabeth grins and crosses the room. She walks around the bed and crawls into Neal's lap. The bed isn't really big enough for the three of them, but Neal figures they'll make it work. He knows neither he nor Peter will mind waking up with Elizabeth sprawled across them.

She kisses him, pressing a hand to his cheek. She pulls back and smiles. "I've been looking forward to doing that all night."

He laughs. "Me too."

"The only difference is, you have Peter to keep you busy." Elizabeth looks down at Peter, her face an open book of warmth and affection. She runs a hand through his hair and he doesn't stir at all. "How much did he have to drink?"

"He had a few," Neal says as Elizabeth's eyebrows furrow and she runs a manicured fingernail over the purple bruise on Peter's neck. He mumbles something too muffled to understand and rolls over.

"What happened here?" she asks, looking back up. She raises her eyebrows with an amused suspicion.

Neal grins, feeling a little sheepish. "I staked my claim. He actually agreed to it."

Elizabeth laughs. "I can almost see the little "NC" there."

Neal leans forward and kisses her again. Peter has always felt like his intellectual equal, but there's something about the way Elizabeth instinctively understands him in a way Peter, for all the knowledge he's accumulated about Neal over the years, never could.

"You want one?" Neal asks, his lips still brushing against hers.

Elizabeth's eyes light up. "Yes. But not on the neck. One of us has to look professional."

"I can work with that," Neal replies, lowering his face to her breast. As he takes the soft skin into his mouth, and Elizabeth digs her fingernails into his shoulder, Neal suddenly understands how honestly lucky he is.


End file.
